At the end of January we spent a few days on the South Coast, in East Sussex. That was when I realised that my old camera was well and truly past it - if I zoomed in, the shutter button wouldn't depress. It was, therefore, impossible to take zoomed photos.
I just thought I'd throw a few I did take onto the blog, now.
By the river in Rye town centre
Rye Churchyard
Winchelsea Beach
Miles of sand and sky
The famous derelict groynes of Winchelsea Beach
The trip to Winchelsea was strange. We asked the bus driver to drop us 'near the beach'. Perhaps I am expecting too much, but what seemed perfectly clear to me wasn't for the driver. I expected that, as we entered the environs of a village called 'Winchelsea Beach' and asked for the beach, we would have been dropped by the beach, but instead he took us onto Hastings, where it rained.
I think I twittered at the time that Hastings must be England's most disappointing town. Hastings resonated with English history, the cornerstone of the past. And it's basically a rather shit rundown seaside resort, which gained a reputation in the 80s and 90s as being where 'Care-in-the-Community' clients were dumped into bed-and-breakfast. It might prosper with the High Speed Rail Link, but, frankly, I doubt it.
We returned to Winchelsea Beach and followed public footpath signs to 'The Beach'. We had got so far and were debating which turn in the road to take when a car pulled up. A woman asked us if we were lost. I initially thought she was taking the opportunity to scrutinise us, see if we were up to no good. But she explained that the public footpath lay across muddy fields and without wellingtons, we weren't going to make it. And she gave us a lift to a more accessible spot. Which was extremely nice and almost certainly rescued us from a day of frustration and disappointment.
It was wonderful on the beach, miles and miles of space. In the far distance we could see a few people working, maybe catching worms or seafood. A couple of dog-walkers, two or three other randoms. But they never came within hailing distance of us. We watched as the sky reddened predicting a glorious sunset (in the event it disappointed compared to the previous day's, which had been Tweeted by various people the length and breadth of the country).
That evening and the next day, Jimmy mentioned to several locals (to Rye) where we had been. They all responded with upturned noses and the comment 'It's a very shingly beach!' Not in our experience. I suppose it would be shingly at high tide, and we were there at low tide. We also noticed signs severely limiting the amount of commercial and anti-social behaviour permitted in high season, which also makes it attractive!
I think I twittered at the time that Hastings must be England's most disappointing town. Hastings resonated with English history, the cornerstone of the past. And it's basically a rather shit rundown seaside resort, which gained a reputation in the 80s and 90s as being where 'Care-in-the-Community' clients were dumped into bed-and-breakfast. It might prosper with the High Speed Rail Link, but, frankly, I doubt it.
We returned to Winchelsea Beach and followed public footpath signs to 'The Beach'. We had got so far and were debating which turn in the road to take when a car pulled up. A woman asked us if we were lost. I initially thought she was taking the opportunity to scrutinise us, see if we were up to no good. But she explained that the public footpath lay across muddy fields and without wellingtons, we weren't going to make it. And she gave us a lift to a more accessible spot. Which was extremely nice and almost certainly rescued us from a day of frustration and disappointment.
It was wonderful on the beach, miles and miles of space. In the far distance we could see a few people working, maybe catching worms or seafood. A couple of dog-walkers, two or three other randoms. But they never came within hailing distance of us. We watched as the sky reddened predicting a glorious sunset (in the event it disappointed compared to the previous day's, which had been Tweeted by various people the length and breadth of the country).
That evening and the next day, Jimmy mentioned to several locals (to Rye) where we had been. They all responded with upturned noses and the comment 'It's a very shingly beach!' Not in our experience. I suppose it would be shingly at high tide, and we were there at low tide. We also noticed signs severely limiting the amount of commercial and anti-social behaviour permitted in high season, which also makes it attractive!
